


The Difference Between Flying and Falling

by Reecey



Series: Shadows and Ink [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reecey/pseuds/Reecey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fish out of water Metropolis reporter Lois Lane has a run in with the infamous Batman.</p><p> Or would it be more accurate to say that dour Gotham vigilante Batman has a run in with the tenacious Lois Lane?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between Flying and Falling

**Author's Note:**

> If DC wants to ship Superman/Wonderwoman, then I'm going to take two not dull characters and ship them.
> 
> Try and stop me, I dare you.

She was just sitting there, with the audacity to be bored.

 A car would be rather dull for her by this point, even one like mine.

 She didn’t even look apologetic.

 Eyes carefully on the road, I had to try and drive some sense into her.

 “This isn’t Metropolis.”

 She looked at me.

 “You can’t rely on flying idiots to catch you every time you throw yourself out of a window.”

 A slow smile.

“Flying, falling with style, I’m not sure I see much of a difference.”

 My eyes remained on the road.

 She went back to peering out of the window.

 “So what now? Drag me back to your hideout? Throw me out at my hotel?”

 “Hospital.”

 “Like that’s a good idea.”

 “I’ll have Gordon arrange a police presence.”

 She snorted derisively.

 “He’s a good man,” I told her evenly. I felt defensive, but I didn’t need to make that even more obvious to her than it already was.

 “Unless he’s doing it personally, I’m not interested.” She turned to look at me, day old black eye stark against her skin. “I barely trust the police in Metropolis, what makes you think I’d trust them in Gotham?”

 “And you think your hotel would be safer.”

 She shrugged, wincing at the jarring of her gunshot wound.

 “The way I see it, you either don’t care at all, or you care a lot.”

 “What makes you think I have the equipment?”

 She laughed, only stopping when I looked at her.

 “You’re Batman.”

 Eyes back on the road.

 “I am.”

 There was a moment of silence. She was probably smiling.

 “Do you want to blindfold me, or drug me?”

 Both, frankly.

 “I’d have thought you’d object to either.”

 “You have your secrets. I don’t want to know them.”

 Because they’d put you in danger, or journalistic ethics?

 I put the car in knockout mode and reached into my belt for the aerosol. A simple tap to the mask gave me a filter to breathe through.

 “How much do you weigh?”

 “A hundred and thirty.”

 Two taps and a press of the button and she was unconscious.

 This was the worst idea that either of us have ever had.

* * *

 “You’ve done a fine job here, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, examining the bandages on Lane’s shoulder, “all things considered.”

 I replied with a noncommittal grunt as I prepared the stimulant.

 “Why exactly did you bring her here?”

 Because she was right about me.

 “Here seemed safest.”

 He raised an eyebrow at me.

 “Of course sir.”

 He briefly adjusted the pillow under her head.

 “I will be in the mansion.”

 I waited until he had left the cave before I even considered waking her up.

 I pulled off my regular gloves in order to put on the surgical gloves we kept in the cave for occasions like this. Although I’m usually not the one wearing them.

 Lane’s head fell to one side and she frowned in her sleep, sweat beading on her forehead.

 I found myself resting my hand on it, but she had a normal temperature.

 I idly brushed a few stray hairs out of her face and turned to wash my hands.

 A shot of stimulant later and she was waking up with a groan.

 I helped her sit up.

 “This is your hideout?”

 She didn’t look impressed.

 “Yes.”

 “How do you not always have a cold?”

 “Good diet and exercise.”

 She chuckled and smiled at me.

 "So, are you gonna fix up my shoulder?"

 I nodded.

 "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt again."

 "You need a new pickup line."

 She struggled out of it, with a little help.

 I cut off the bandages.

 “There’s a heating pad for the black eye to your left.”

 She picked it up and activated it with one depressingly practiced hand, holding it against her eyes gently.

 “Thanks.”

 “Don’t thank me just yet, I still need to stitch this up.”

 I started re cleaning the wound, to her credit she didn’t wince.

 “It’s been a long time since I needed stitches.”

 This wasn’t the best time for conversation, but I humoured her.

 “Superman.”

 “Yeah.” She was smiling fondly. “He’s good at getting me out of messes. Too good, I’ve gotten sloppy.”

 “It’s understandable.”

 She snorted.

 “Is it? It’s not like I can rely on him always being around, not with as much kryptonite as there is in circulation.”

 She didn’t sound like she trusted him much in general.

 I had a hunch why.

 “He lies, doesn’t he?”

 “All the time. It took a while to see through him, it’s hard learning a totally different set of hard wired emotional reactions.”

 I concentrated on stitching her wound.

 “That’s why everything he does seems so faked, because it is.”

 “He’s not very good at it.”

 “He’s very good at it,” she snapped, “when he needs to be.”

 “I’ve seen him smile at the president.”

 “He doesn’t need to impress the president.”

 I looked at her.

 “But he does need to impress you.”

 She closed her eyes just long enough to make it clear she was upset, but not so long that she couldn’t plausibly deny it.

 “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

 “Of course it bothers me, it would bother anyone.”

 She didn’t mean 'anyone'.

 “He does it to me.”

 “I can’t tell you that.”

 “You just did.”

 “I know.”

 I tied off the stitches.

 She watched me wrap her shoulder with bandages with a carefully blank face that hid very little.

 “Done.”

 I stated the obvious just to break the silence.

 She nodded

 Alfred had left a generic white shirt from the undercover wardrobe on the tool bench. I helped Lane into it.

 “So what now, Gotham?”

 “You go back to Metropolis.”

 Where you belong.

 She made a face.

 “What?”

 “Can you blindfold me this time? The gas gave me a headache.”

 “It’s a side effect of the stimulant.”

 “Oh, well, that makes it so much better.”

 She just grinned at my annoyed look.

 “You’re a journalist.”

 “I’m a journalist that knows the names of six different undercover CIA operatives, their addresses and where they’re currently stationed.”

 She’d published nothing to that effect.

 “How long have you known that?”

 “Three months.”

 “Fine. You get the blindfold.”

 “Thanks, Gotham. Now, could you be a good boy and get me an aspirin?”

* * *

 Lois Lane kept her blindfold on after I told her she could take it off.

 “We’re at the train station.”

 She took it off and put on her baseball cap.

 “Ready.”

 “Always stay in view.”

 She nodded without complaint.

 Lane walked into the station and made my way in through a window obscured from the street by a grotesque.

 Staying in the shadow among the rafters, i watched her make her way through the main lobby and buying her ticket.

 She played the part of a desperate abused woman disturbingly well. I’d need to look further into her background.

 We head to the platform.

 She walked by the thugs Maroni had sent looking for her with relative ease, they weren’t looking for a blonde woman with a fresh black eye on the wrong side of her face.

 I had to take a more circuitous route, forcing me to lose sight of her for a few minutes. When I did see her again, she was slipping into a dark alcove.

 Dammit, Lane.

 The only other person on the platform was a bored college girl holding a can of pepper spray in one hand and sitting on a bench ten feet away.

 She either didn’t notice me or didn’t notice me as I followed Lane into the alcove, or didn’t care.

 “The train’s gonna be here in a few minutes, so let’s make this quick.”

 “I told you to stay in sight.”

 She put her hand on my shoulder.

 “Do I seem like a woman who often does what she’s told?”

 I glared at her.

 “What do you want, Lane?”

 Her hand ended up on my neck and she started pulling me down.

 There wasn’t much point trying to stop her.

 It was short and not particularly chaste.

 She grinned when we parted.

 “Nice one, Gotham. I knew you had it in you.”

 “Lane…” I growled.

 She patted me on the cheek and slipped out of the alcove, heading towards the college girl.

 “Hey, um, do you mind if I sit here?”

 The college girl looked at her, sparing a moment to glance at the alcove, and nodded.

 I kept watch until the train was safely taking them away from Gotham.

* * *

 “You really didn’t have to come all this way, Mr Wayne. Perry could have rearranged the interview and sent Lois another time.”

 I drummed my fingers on Lane’s desk.

 I plastered a false smile on my face.

 “Look, Colin-”

 “Clark, sir.”

 The wimpy hopeful smile he gave me made my eye twitch.

 “Whatever.”

 His face fell.

 “I don’t like being stood up, especially for two days without word until I hear that my interviewer threw herself out of a window. Am I really that repulsive, Calvin?”

 Despondency turned into mild disgust.

 It suited him.

 “I’m owed coffee with a beautiful woman.”

 “Mr Wayne-”

 “Perry!”

 My head swung towards the elevator at the sound of Lane’s voice.

 She was dashing towards White’s office looking like her usual stylish and unruffled self. She’d done a great job covering up the black eye.

 Everything Kent said became a largely meaningless drone as I watched the conversation between the excited Lane and cantankerous, and then pleased, White.

 “Mr Wayne,are you even listening to me?” Kent demanded.

 “You’re giving me a speech about respecting women.”

 I looked directly at him.

 He actually flinched at my expression.

 That such a pathetic man had tried to date Lois Lane filled me with irrational anger.

 Perry White’s voice boomed from his opened door.

 “Lane, you’re a god damn miracle worker. You head home and rest, I’ll check the copy personally.”

 He gingerly patted her on the back.

 “Oh, by the way, Wayne’s here to see you.”

 She looked over and spotted me with Kent. A quick nod to White and she came came over.

 “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Wayne?”

 On closer inspection, she looked exhausted.

 “I wanted to give you the opportunity to have your interview without having to come back to Gotham.”

 Kent looked betrayed.

 “You’re too kind.”

 Kent, decided to interrupt.

 “Lois, you should go home and rest.”

 She looked as annoyed as I felt.

 “Clark, could you let me talk to Mr Wayne in peace?”

 “But Lois-”

 “Now, Clark. I’m too tired for this right now.”

 I wanted to punch him in his kicked puppy face.

 “Oh okay, Lois.”

 He finally left.

 “Sorry about that.”

 “It’s fine.”

 She smiled.

 “Look, Mr Wayne, I’m flattered that you took time out of your schedule and came all this way to see me, but I really need some sleep right now.”

 “It’s fine, I have a fundraiser here next week, I can make another space for you.”

 She raised an eyebrow.

 “Since when were you this kind to interviewers?”

 “I think I’m willing to make an exception for the great Lois Lane. Especially since she’s had run ins with both Maroni and the Batman in the last few days.”

 She quickly glanced around and stepped closer.

 “Between you and me, Mr Wayne, Batman’s really not all that scary.”

 It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

 “Really, Miss Lane?”

 She actually smiled fondly.“Really, Mr Wayne.”


End file.
